


The Twisted Games We Play

by catisacat



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Game Night, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catisacat/pseuds/catisacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A boring night in the Caravan turns into a bitter game of Twister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Twisted Games We Play

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who has writer's block it is me also I definitely didn't get the idea for this fic from an episode of Fuller House (I'm lying, I did).

“This game is bullshit,” Vaughn mumbled, eyeing the green dot that was far out of his reach. All the closer circles were occupied by feet and hands connected to considerably longer limbs. Not to mention one of those limbs, specifically a metallic and pointy one, was painfully digging into his side.

Fiona nudged him as best she could from her precarious position, “Hey, don’t be a sore loser.”

“I haven’t even lost yet!” He yelled, practically into her ear. She faltered for a second at that, sending a wave of shaking down to her sister who she was practically sitting on.

“It’s an inevitability,” Rhys said confidently and frankly the fact his long limbs were so easily snaked between the other three betrayed the fact he was probably right, “You’ll all fall. Eventually. Like in College, right Vaughn? You may be weirdly ripped now but you didn’t get any-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Old rule still applies on Pandora. Ix-nay on the Hort-say.”

“Oh my god! They have Skag Latin up on Helios?! Ou-yay re-ay oing-gay own-day!” Sasha chirped, despite the fact she was very rapidly being pushed towards the ground and impending failure by her own sister. The ultimate betrayal.

“The only thing that’s going down is your chances of winning,” Rhys quipped as Vaughn managed to shove himself forward enough to awkwardly stick the landing. His foot was just barely on green but it was on green, damn it.

“Oh! Oh! He did it!” Gortys chirped, bolting upright and rolling over to Loaderbot and excitedly flicking the spinner, “Right hand on red!”

Fiona spoke before anyone could move, wicked smile distracting the others as she snatched up the closest red spot, “Hey, uh, Rhys. Asshole. Why don’t you take a fall for your little boyfriend? I’m sure he won’t mind you going down for him. Or on him. Whatever floats your boat. Or, in this case, sinks your ship.” 

Rhys shot her a look under his arm, “Oh you’d like that.”

Sasha gave one of his long legs a test kick, “Uh, actually I think we’d all lose. He’s kind of towering over us.”

Said limb didn’t move at all but the dreadlocked girl felt a wussy smack to the back of her head, “Hey, no kicking. And yes, I’d crush all of you. You’re like ants to me.”

Fiona rolled her eyes and delivered another kick right to his shin, in the exact same place her sister had hit, “Ooooo mister high and mighty CEO thinks he’s so cool and powerful with his gangly stilt legs I’m so scared.”

His foot arched but remained steady, “Vaughn! Give me a hand here.”

“Don’t drag me into this,” he muttered from far below. His short limbs had guaranteed him a spot at the bottom of the tangled pile. He hated this game. Stupid game for stupid tall people.

“Actually you’re all supposed to be giving a hand! On red!” Gortys chirped, tapping a metal hand on the spinner with a little smile gracing her tiny face.

The sudden and aggressive motion nearly crushed Fiona as they all complied.

Gortys ignored, or more likely was unaware of the swindler’s turmoil as she spun the dial again with a cheery, “Left leg on yellow!”

“Gccckk!” she croaked, delivering another kick to Rhys’ shin in an attempt to get him to remove his jabbing, pointy metal elbow from her windpipe. It worked as it jerked away from her but an unpleasant return kick to the back of her knee, nearly folding it in on her and sending her to the ground.

A sister teamwork pincer attack assaulted his shin.

“VAUGHN. HELP.” he yelled down at him.

His boyfriend rolled his eyes from below. Great, now Rhys was going to whine about the bruise on his ankle for the next week.

“You do realize you’re an adult right?” he quipped.

Rhys’ answer was a sharp kick to the much more muscular man’s leg.

A mistake.

The lanky man yelped at the return kick that sent his leg flying just enough to buckle the other, sending the cyborg crashing down.

Unfortunately, he really HAD been looming over the rest of them.

They all crumpled into a pile, falling like dominoes. The game pieces, not the pizza. Well I guess maybe the pizza if you just fucking slamdunked it on the ground.

The girls were currently trapped in an ex-Hyperion sandwich, despite Sasha’s increasingly aggressive flailing, “Get off!!”

Her sister spoke up too, watching her hat roll a few feet away in dismay, “Damn it, Rhys!”

“He kicked me...” he whimpered, pointing accusingly at Vaughn who was currently dragging himself out from under the pile.

“He started it.”

“Technically you started all this by being a sore ass loser,” Sasha mumbled.

“Well, whatever, also ended it,” Vaughn said, failing to escape the pile and accepting his fate.

“Sure would be nice to to stand,” Fiona complained, digging an elbow into the lanky man trapping the other three. The conwoman would never get used to how shockingly heavy he was for being a bunch of twigs loosely bound together. Metal limb or not.

A long silence was punctuated by Rhys’ voice above them, “You know, technically, I’m not touching the ground.”

His attempt at claiming a faulty technical victory was met with yelling and more shin kicking.


End file.
